“Ah, you feel our connection.” He moves closer, each step deliberate, each footfall shaking the ground beneath my feet. “You are remarkably like your mother. She and the other witch attempted to seal me away. They thought themselves clever, believed they could banish me and walk away unscathed.”
It clicks then. This isn’t my spirit affinity taking hold. It’s the demon mark.
The red script beneath his skin flares brighter.
“But I am Tharuzel the Soul Thresher, and I do not bend to the will of witches.” His voice drops, the chorus of stolen souls whispering through every word. “So when they challenged me, I marked them. Blood and bone. Spirit and soul. I made them mine.”
“My mother is dead.” The words come out sharper than I intend, edged with grief I haven’t fully processed. “She was killed during the ritual that night.”
His mouth curves wider, impossibly pleased. “And that, dear child, is the beauty of my mark. It’s more than tainting a bloodline. The claim doesn’t die with the witch. It lives on.And now that you have come into your power, you will do my bidding.”
I scoff. “Like hell. I agree with my mother. You don’t belong free in our world. I’ll never help you gain access to feed upon humanity.”
“Then, if not you, perhaps one of your sisters. Do you think young Lily will be able to fight my will, or do you think I will consume her?”
Horror crashes through me, shattering like glass and spearing me with a thousand shards. “No, you can’t. She’s just a kid.”
“A bloodline marked. Through daughters. Through granddaughters. Through every generation that carries the mark I carved into your mother’s essence. There is no scenario where I don’t get what I want.”
I swallow, my head spinning with the pounding rush of blood in my head. “Yeah, well, like the Rolling Stones say, You Can’t Always Get What You Want.”
He extends his long, leathery fingers, ending in dagger-tipped talons. With a flick of his hand, my body flies backward, slamming into the obsidian wall behind me with enough force to drive the air from my lungs.
Invisible bonds lock my arms and legs in place, and when I try to speak, my throat seals shut.
Tharuzel prowls closer, the world shuttering with each step. “I will be free, young witch.” Each word lands with the weight of prophecy. “The seal your mother helped create weakens with every passing day. Soon, I will walk your world, and when I do, those who bear my mark will serve me.”
My magic thrashes inside me, trying to break free, trying to dosomething—but it’s still drawn to him, still singeing with that terrible recognition that makes me want to claw my skin off.
“Fighting me accomplishes nothing but getting you killed like your mother.” He tilts his head, the bone mask reflecting the hellscape’s crimson light. “And if that happens, I will take your sisters. Both are marked. Both are mine.”
No, I can’t let that happen. I can’t let him taint them.
“Life is all about choices, young witch. Do you value your life over the lives of your sisters? Shall I keep you as my prisoner and continue down the family line?”
Hot tears sting the rims of my eyes. I don’t remember my sisters, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love them. I’ve seen the family photos around my house, and know what being the oldest sister, and now the oldest of my family, means to me. It means there’s no way I’m letting this freak show anywhere near Violet and Lily.
I fight the invisible pressure on my throat enough to breathe as the first tears fall down my cheeks. “What do you want?”
Tharuzel extends his hand, and a scroll materializes, hovering in the air between us. The parchment is old, the scarlet ink gleaming darkly. “When I call, you will answer. When I command, you will obey. Do this, and your sisters remain untouched and untainted.”
My mind races. There has to be a way out. A loophole. Something.
But all I can see is Lily’s bright smile, and Violet’s sassy smirk. I can’t risk them. Not for anything.
“Fine,” I force out. “But you leave them alone. Completely.”
The scroll drifts closer, and then the demon swings forward. The slice of claw through flesh sears my forearm, and then the parchment dips to catch it. Three splattering drops of blood splash onto the contract and sizzle.
“Signed and sealed with your blood. Poppy Hallowind, our pact is done.”
Every instinct I have screams inside me. Signed in blood? That has to be bad. So bad. “How do I know what I’m bound to? I want a copy of that to take to my lawyer. Those are my terms.”
For a heartbeat, the world seems to hold its breath. Even the rivers of fire seem to pause.
Then Tharuzel laughs.
It’s the sound of breaking glass and screaming souls and something vast and terrible being genuinely amused. The noise reverberates through the hellscape until my bones ache with it.
